Love and a Revolution
by owlpostagain
Summary: The thing about Axel was that he was a survivor. The thing about Roxas was that he was, well, not. This is all fine and good, when you're not in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. semi-one-shot, rated for excessive use of a word that rhymes with duck.


**Casually long author's note. I think it's because I've been internet deprived (like actually do not have internet in my apartment. At all.) and haven't had a chance to answer reviews/messages in like a month…what can I say, I miss you guys.**

**Anyway, I'm working on this other story called "Signal the Riflemen" that's kind of about a zombie apocalypse at Hollow Bastion High…yeah. Anyway, the main issue I'm having with that one is that the narrative style I'm experimenting with writing it in doesn't really allow for this scene…which was kind of the spark that inspired the entire story? Solution: outtake.**

**I'd call this a teaser, but the full-length one-shot is about an eighth of the way done, chapter 4 of Living Proof is only about a quarter of the way done, and I'm working on three (count em, three) (bonus points if you can name the song I just unintentionally quoted) other one-shots simultaneously, so…really, it's just a tease. Love me anyway. (especially if you follow me on tumblr and I teased about the tease. DON'T LEAVE ME, I LOVE YOU)**

**Things I Own**:_…Is a Real Boy/…Was a Real Boy_, _In Defense of the Genre_, _Say Anything_…the albums. Although I'm starting to think that Say Anything should start paying me for being part of their street team, considering the way I pimp their shit out on here.

**Things I Don't Own**: Axel, Roxas, assorted characters and places, _Zombieland_, various quotes/quasi-quotes that you may or may not recognize if I've managed to convert you into a Say Anything fan…

**"Love and a Revolution" comes from the song "Signal the Riflemen" by Say Anything. It's fucking awesome, and theirs.**

**Warning for EXCESSIVE potty-mouthy-ness.**

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><p>The thing about Axel was that he was a <em>survivor<em>. At least, he always thought he would be if the situation ever called for it. He'd seen enough movies and watched enough TV shows to know that he was never going to be one of those fucking idiots running around like a chicken without a head when spaceships appeared over Manhattan or his plane crash-landed on Bizarro Island. No, Axel was a _survivor_, and he was not going to let some stupid little thing like a damn zombie apocalypse take him down.

The thing about Roxas was that he was, well, _not_. Oh, he liked to pretend he was hard, what with his drunken-sailor mouth and his tough-guy bullshit, but the kid was really a big freaking softy (big, of course, being particularly generous, because Roxas was really more on the runty side of things). He had a much higher chance of getting his shit trampled by an army of brain-dead idiots, and definitely a much higher chance of getting overpowered, and therefore fucking _eaten _by them.

The problem, then, other than the obvious, very high probability of Roxas getting his brain nommed on, was that Axel was having a very, very hard time focusing on surviving when he was so busy thinking about Roxas being eaten. It was so easy to picture too, blond hair matted with dark red blood, electric blue eyes glaring daggers at the undead fuckers even as they chomp down on his torn-up bicep. And that mental image, immediately followed by Roxas biting down on his own flesh, chewing on his own lip as he choked back a scream, was enough to make Axel want to do something stupid. Something that might include running head-first into an army of drooling delinquents and definitely would include punching Roxas square in the jaw for making him worry.

Or kissing him.

No. No kissing. None, not even the relieved kind, you know, like in movies when the Hero rescued the Damsel in Distress/Love of His Life and they kiss even in the middle of a fucking war zone because they're _just so alive with the glory of their reunion_. No, there would be none of that nonsense, goddammit, and Axel would Stop Thinking About It. Now. Instead he would think about finding Roxas, because the little blond bastard was definitely going to be zombie fodder soon, if he wasn't already, and there was no way Axel was taking that one lying down.

He needed a cell phone. This was a fucking high school, for crissake, there were probably a dozen phones within a ten inch radius of him, but of course none of them were his. _His_, because he's a fucking idiot, was trampled to pieces in the third floor hallway, dead in seconds under dozens of dragging feet.

Knowing Roxas he was probably playing it cool right now, not scrambling around frantically trying to find Axel, not desperately calling him over and over in a futile attempt to reach something other than voicemail. Roxas wasn't like that, and he didn't like Axel _like that_, certainly not enough to lose his cool in the face of a zombie apocalypse.

Not that Axel was losing his cool. He wasn't. He was just…concerned. That was it. And he certainly was not thinking about the fact that he hadn't seen Roxas since Saturday night and he hadn't seen Roxas since Hayner had blurted out that stupid fucking dare and he hadn't really seen Roxas, since Axel'd refused point blank to look at him after, since leaning forward and pulling Roxas into a clumsy kiss, one hand wrapped around the blond's neck and the other flipping Hayner off.

No. Axel was NOT THINKING SUCH THINGS.

The redhead shook himself roughly, forcibly bringing himself back to the task at hand. Find Roxas. Okay. Find a phone. Best place to look would be...in a backpack. Great. A senior backpack, preferably, because Axel had never really bothered to memorize Roxas' number. Senior backpacks, on the fourth floor, better start…ah ha!

Axel peered nervously around the side of the alcove he'd tucked himself away into. Not hiding. Just…planning. Right. It didn't matter, because there wasn't a damn zombie in sight. Good news: awesome for him. Bad news: that much higher of a likelihood that they were off overpowering Roxas somewhere. SHUT UP AXEL.

All he had to do was cross the hall. Cross the hall and…okay. Everything went better than expected. The classroom itself resembled nothing short of a natural disaster but…well…it kind of was. But way more important than that was the dozen or so backpacks abandoned on chairs. Score one for the big guy.

Except not. The first one needed a password (assholes with Blackberries, fuck that shit). Second had no battery. Third, fourth, and fifth didn't even have any "R" numbers, let alone Roxas. Who _were _these freaks? Roxas may not have been Prom King material, but he wasn't exactly a social pariah either. AP Chem geeks…

And suddenly, there it was. Not the number, eight phones down and still coming up dry, but the sound he hadn't even realized he'd been waiting for. Except that he had been, for _days_, ever since Saturday and that stupid fucking game and those stupid fucking friends of theirs and really, who let Hayner open his fucking mouth and why wasn't Seifer there to beat the shit out of him for it?

It was Roxas. Roxas, screaming his name as he, from the sound of it, sprinted down the hall. Roxas was yelling his name, bellowing it, really, throwing it down the empty hallway until it ricochet off the walls and rebounded back in his face. He was definitely running, too, and if Axel didn't make moves right the fuck now the blond would pass him right by.

"Here!" he called, stumbling forward in the same breath. "Roxas? In here."

Axel reached the door just as it crashed open, Roxas hurtling over the threshold and barreling right towards the redhead. Hesitation be damned, questions be screwed, sanity tossed right out the window, Axel reached out and caught his best friend by the scruff of his neck, using Roxas' momentum and his own body weight to slam the door shut underneath them. Roxas fisted two hands in Axel's shirt and yanked him the rest of the way forward until they collided with a clash of teeth and tongues and holyshitRoxaswaskissinghim. _Really _kissing him, sloppy and wet and deliciously desperate, and it was better than any of those stupid movie reunion scenes because this was a little bit painful and a little bit imperfect but completely, utterly _real_.

Axel pulled away first, just far enough back to take a good look at the blond's face. Flushed, breathing heavily, eyes still closed…damn.

"Escape plan," Roxas gasped.

Axel, too interested in the way Roxas' bottom lip was already starting to swell – look at that, he didn't think he bit it that hard – didn't get it. "Huh?"

"Escape plan," Roxas repeated, finally prying blue eyes open enough to meet Axel's stare. "Rule number two: never lock yourself in a room without at least two escape plans."

"Right," Axel breathed. Huh. Roxas might not be so bad at this after all. "Good rule." He leaned forward again, this time with his head over Roxas' shoulder, until he was able to press his forehead to the cool, fake wood of the classroom door, and closed his eyes. It was way much easier like this, what without the major distraction of Roxas still staring at him with that dazed expression and swollen lips. "Uh…can the door count as one?"

Roxas exhaled a soft huff of laughter that, holy shit, wow, Axel could feel ghosting over his own skin as the air tickled his neck and he was _that fucking close _to Roxas and…wow.

"No," the blond laughed. " But that stupid supply closet door over there, you know the one that connects to the fucking room next door? That counts."

"Rude," Axel muttered into his friend's ear, gloating soundlessly as Roxas shivered slightly. So much victory and success. "Right, option two. Uh…windows? Next roof over is the gymnasium, it's only like a one story drop."

Roxas pretended to mull it over for approximately half a second. "Acceptable," he declared.

And really, Axel didn't have time to argue, even though he was all about opening his mouth and protesting the shit out of that 'acceptable' bullshit, because Roxas had apparently relocated his hand when Axel wasn't paying attention and the taller boy was entirely too busy getting his head yanked back by the roots of his fire-red hair to focus on such silly arguments. Holyfuckingshit that was Roxas' _tongue_ on his _neck _and what had he been saying?

"Rox," Axel breathed, tilting his chin to give the blond better access to the underside of his jaw. "Rox…zombie apocalypse…"

"Right," his best friend agreed, and Axel could feel it just as much as he could hear it because Roxas' lips were still ghosting up the cord of muscles in his neck. "The apocalypse is the end of the world, right?"

"Huh? Yeah," Axel nodded halfheartedly. Jesus, Roxas could burst into zombie symptoms right here right now and just start gnawing on his neck and Axel wouldn't stop him, because he would do _anything _to keep them both right here, Roxas' lips on his jaw, Axel's hand pushing up the hem of Roxas' tattered t-shirt, for as long as inhumanly possible.

"Got a better idea for how you'd like to spend the last day of the world?" Roxas challenged. He shoved Axel backwards without letting the redhead get further than arms-length away, leading with his hips and his lips and Axel was more than okay with letting him, focused as he was on nudging the smaller teen's mouth back up to meet his own.

"No," Axel insisted. "I don't think there is one."

Roxas lunged up, slamming his mouth into Axel's and sending the tangled pair careening backwards into a portable blackboard. The world, as predicted, spent a few moments crashing to pieces around his ears as wood, chalkboard, redhead, and blond toppled heavily onto the floor, Axel and Roxas slamming through the flimsy board on impact.

Neither of them could breathe for laughing, lips still pressed together, grinning through their kiss as the wood settled around them. Axel tangled one hand in the blond's dust-covered hair, sifting through the remnants of the light blue chalk coating the flaxen strands as Roxas leaned down to blow pale pink powder off the redhead's neck.

"You're not just – ungh – doing this cause the world's – mmm – ending, are you?" Axel somehow ground out, despite Roxas' best efforts at distracting him with a well-placed tongue.

The smaller senior paused, gingerly shifting his weight to his knees, straddling the redhead's waist and bring himself back up to Axel's eye level without disturbing the precarious pile of debris they were balanced on. Probably shouldn't have asked him, shit, now he's going to start _thinking_ instead of continuing what he was just _doing_, and that's a damn fucking shame, really, well done Axel. The taller boy curled both hands around Roxas' hips, holding on just in case the blond suddenly tried to bolt.

"You're such a fucking idiot sometimes," Roxas sighed, and even in light of the insult, and even in light of what it probably meant, Axel couldn't help but be absolutely floored by the way the blue chalk dust in the blond's hair just made his electric eyes radiate blue.

Roxas shifted his weight again, sitting back on Axel's thighs and freeing one hand from where it had been propped against the floor to grab Axel's chin, powdery fingers sliding along his pointed jaw. Frankly, as much as it would have hurt if Roxas was using him shamelessly as an apocalyptic fuck, right now, with Roxas' hips dangerously close to his own and those fucking eyes boring into his and pink-tinted fingers stroking his face, it didn't matter.

"That dare? Saturday night?" Roxas said firmly, very pointedly holding eye contact that Axel couldn't have squirmed away from if he tried. "That wasn't exactly an accident. And it wasn't Hayner's idea."

"You mean –"

"That I'm not just on top of you because the world is ending and I literally wanted to go out with a bang? Yes. Now stop being such a fucking girl about it," Roxas teased, and Axel damn well wasn't one to take that shit lying down. He leaned up into Roxas' mouth before the blond could get another word out, using the hands on Roxas' hips to pull the smaller boy closer, tighter, until it was blatantly obvious just how much of a girl Axel _wasn't_.

Roxas moaned. _Moaned_, exhaling the sound right into Axel's parted lips, and holy shit if it wasn't the single most sensual thing Axel had ever heard in his entire fucking life then he didn't know what was. He tugged at Roxas' hips again, rolling his own up off the cracked piece of blackboard they'd been resting on, simultaneously sitting up even further to follow Roxas' retreating mouth and reseal their lips together.

"Fuck," Roxas panted, pulling back again. Axel chased after him until he was nearly sitting upright, bending his knees until Roxas had no choice but to settled into the middle of the V created by Axel's torso and thighs, and _fuck _was right, because that was the best fucking idea Axel had ever had.

Until it wasn't.

"Roxas," Axel whispered.

The blond ignored him, one hand pushing up into fire engine red hair and it was almost, _almost _enough of a distraction to convince Axel to close his eyes and lean into the kiss the fingers pressing against his scalp and the hand splayed across his jaw were desperate to guide him into. Almost.

"Roxas," the redhead hissed again, a little harsher, and in a way that had nothing to do with the way the smaller senior had rocked his hips forward just enough to cause some delicious friction between them. "Rox, seriously."

The blond paused barely inches from Axel's face, glaring with the force of a thousand fiery suns, and even _that _was hot, jesus fuck.

"I swear to fuck, Axel, if you don't stop _interrupting_…what?"

Axel stared pointedly over Roxas' shoulder, jerking his chin lightly towards the door. Blue eyes widened to near-comical proportions (because really, it wasn't funny), and the blond twisted sharply in Axel's lap.

Xion Valentine stood in the doorway, black-matted hair hanging limply over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side, studying the pair sprawled over the broken blackboard with a fixated kind of wonder. Roxas and Axel returned the fascination, the moment shattered almost as quickly as it had happened as the two took in the sight of their infected classmate. Her tattered white t-shirt hung in ruins from a dislocated shoulder, the bare skin peeking through the tears covered in dirt, blood, bite marks, and something that looked suspiciously like brain matter, blended together to be the same muted, cat-puke gray as her ripped-up jeans.

Talk about a buzzkill.

She stared at them, and they stared at her, and somewhere in the back of his mind Axel wondered why none of them had fucking moved yet, because there was a _zombie_ hovering in the doorway five feet away from two completely unaffected and completely lust-distracted _humans_, and all they were doing was having a damn staring contest.

And, of course, because Axel was a fucking dumbass and had to go and jinx himself like a fucking asshole, that was the exact same goddamn moment that another head peered over Xion's shoulder. And another, and another, and a half dozen more behind it, and forget one curious zombie, there was a fucking _army_of undead crowding into the doorway.

"Roxas…"

"Closet," the blond gasped, scrambling to get his feet underneath him. Fuck that. Axel tightened the grip he had on Roxas' hips and pushed the smaller boy off of him, using a combination of momentum and some fuck yeah ninja moves to launch them both upright (seriously, someone should be filming this). Roxas was moving before he was even completely on the ground, twisting away from Axel and lunging towards the supply closet door.

Axel yanked him back by the belt loops at the sight of a handful more zombies, and god why wasn't this a fucking video game and why couldn't he pull one of eighteen different weapons out of his "backpack" and blow the fucking heads off every single one of the bastards putting that look on Roxas' pale face, classmates be damned. There it was, that stupid urge to do something insanely stupid like run head-first into an army of drooling delinquents, or at the very least haul Roxas back far enough to shove the blond behind him.

"Come on," Roxas snapped, tugging on the back of the taller boy's shirt.

"Fucking where?" Axel snarled, still keeping himself firmly between his best friend and the slowly advancing squadrons. Fucking fucking fuck, survivor my ass.

"Window," Roxas said instantly. "Your idea, remember?"

Axel turned, giving the shorter senior one long, hard look before shifting his gaze to the window. It was a ten foot drop, easily, and that was _if_ they managed to get far enough out the stupid "safety" windows to push off with some good momentum, and they were wasting some really valuable time right now because he was seriously starting to smell some _rancid_zombie breath and, oh, god, if he had to die now at least he'd gotten to kiss Roxas for real first.

And that was it. One of those stupid, god-awful, cheesy-ass moments they always talk about in movies, when the narrator has this great moment of dawning epiphany about something that suddenly makes _life_ worth _living_, because oh my god the sun is shining and the birds are singing and he'd walk through hell just to make it out alive because _he was in love_ and his soul was _useless _without Roxas.

Maybe Roxas couldn't read his mind, but something must have shown on Axel's face, because that crazy-ass grin that meant something ridiculously stupid and impulsive was about to happen was slowly spreading across the blond's face. He loosened his grip on the back of Axel's shirt and reached instead for the redhead's hand, lacing their fingers together.

This isn't a fucking love story. Don't make that mistake. But with one hand on each other's and one hand grasping for the nearest piece of broken wood just in case any of the witless wonders got too close before they could make it to the window…

_All I need is your love and a revolution_.

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><p><strong>PS. The other day one of my friends informed me that she played "Alive With the Glory of Love" for two friends and they were EXTREMELY offended that Max Bemis would make a mockery of the Holocaust by writing a trite love song out of it. I took personal offense to this, and felt the need to share. <strong>

**PPS. The full-length story is the top priority after Living Proof Chapter 4. Promise.**

**PPPS. Zombies? Who lets me write this shit?**


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